


Knock knock, open up the door, it's real

by CharlieDC



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur!Harry, Harry Hart Lives, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7224007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieDC/pseuds/CharlieDC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the dreaded day of Harry Hart's funeral, Eggsy finds himself in a state of disarray. He is broken, it seems, and just when he thinks things can't get worse, when he can't climb out of the drunken and mournful hole he's dug, an envelope is slipped under the door.</p><p>What it entails plunges Eggsy out of his hole and makes him run as if it's for his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knock knock, open up the door, it's real

**Author's Note:**

> So this started as me writing a monologue as to what Eggsy would say at Harry's funeral. And then it snowballed, and here we are.
> 
> Chapters will update periodically, and I do intend to not drag it out. I guess it depends on how you all take it. 
> 
> Special thanks to Carter and the reveal of Kingsman 2, this would not have sparked and caught fire if the writers didn't toy with my heartstrings.

The rain pounding against Eggsy’s window to his office represented two things: the rest of London was experiencing the gloomy storm that was a perfect metaphor for his life at this moment, and that Mother Nature, ever watchful, had her eyes on Eggsy and chose the appropriate weather for the appropriate day.

The day of Harry Hart’s funeral.

Eggsy turned over the paper in his calloused hands: he noted the tear stains and how the paper was so crumpled. The front had a picture of Harry, his usual Galahad headshot used for missions and records. He wasn’t smiling, but all Eggsy could remember is the many moments in the time God allowed them to have which Harry smiled.

From cocktail making to firearm care, Eggsy’s mind went through file upon file in the folder of his mind labeled _Harry Hart_. Stills of Harry smiling or looking at Eggsy, or looking away from him or…

Or kissing him.

Eggsy’s mind previews the small video of Harry leaning in softly, the feeling of his rough hands on the back of his neck, playing with the trimmed hair. The sight of his eyes drooping, the final lean and the capture of his soft lips.

Eggsy threw a stapler from his desk out of the open window, due to trying to maintain his frustrations.

He somehow found a way to blame himself for it. And while he would convince everyone and their nan that he was over what happened and killing Valentine was recompense for what happened to Harry, he couldn’t quite convince himself. He couldn’t convince his fellow knights, either, for they knew him far too well by now.

They treated him like glass, and when the time came around to make some kind of memorial preparations, very few talked about it in front of Eggsy. It was mainly Merlin who put it all together.

There’s another thing: Eggsy finds his emotions ridiculous. Merlin has known Harry _far more_ than Eggsy has, and he never threw anything or blamed himself (as far as Eggsy knows). He and Merlin both watched it all unravel, to the exact moment that Harry hit the floor.

_/_

_Eggsy walked up to the podium and calmed himself. The feeling of air swelling in his lungs and soon rushing out just for another gust to fill him again stilled his nerves._

_He looked out to the audience: friends, colleagues, mostly. He recognized most of them, and a few were definitely foreign, some were people who belonged to the church they were holding this service at._

_“You know, I look around this room and I see so many faces…” He began, but couldn’t continue with what he wrote down; his heart wasn’t in it._

_Eggsy realized in that moment, taking a glance at Merlin, that the two of them were the only real people who loved Harry._

_“And I realize that Harry wouldn’t want any of you here. Which is a bit harsh, but good god am I right or am I right?” Merlin coughed to hide his laugh._

_“I think the only other person, besides myself, that truly liked Harry was Merlin and I don’t even know his real name. I see your faces and I know your names but… That’s it. I was the closest person to Harry Hart and I know nothing about any of you, personally.”_

_He looked around, once again, finding Roxy looking at him with tears in her eyes because, of course Roxy would be crying -_ she _understands. He smiled at her, looked down at his paper, crumpled it up and put it in his pocket._

_“Y’know, I’m a huge fan of trash telly. When the Housewives of New York come on I used to grab Harry and we’d watch them together; seeing who is backstabbing who and the drama going on. Never would I have imagined that so much of that could be perfectly paralleled to a goddamn spy organization. I mean, some of you tried to have him killed for the position. You know who you are. The fact you can sit here and pretend you knew Harry, really knew Harry, disgusts me. You all are liars and backstabbers and I ought to kick you all out.”_

_Some people adjusted their glasses, some scratched the back of their heads and, looking from Merlin, to Roxy, to the other blank faces, Eggsy realized yet another thing._

_They’re all carbon copies._

_“Harry doesn’t deserve asses like you gathering around his coffin and claiming you were “great partners and better friends”, Bors, yes I’m talking about you. You all are sick and disgusting and, really, what else can you expect from spies. You lie and steal and kill for a living, myself included, but at least I was kind to Harry. I treated him not only as a great colleague, but as a friend. As someone I loved.”_

_He was crying, naturally._

/

It seemed to all happen at once. Eggsy was sulking in his desk chair, tumbler of whisky in front of him and the slight hum of the world going on around him, when it happened.

The rain stopped, as if to warn Eggsy of what was to happen. In that moment, there was a three-chime knock at his door, and when Eggsy looked up, there was a manilla envelope being slid under his door.

“The fuck…?” Eggsy got up and walked over as steadily as possible.  _ Are we sticking to ominous envelopes now? _ Eggsy thought,  _ is there no sense of secrecy left? Anyone could find this… _

He picked up the folder, and turned it over. The front was enclosed by red wax, how Elizabethan, with the Kingsman sigil stamped into it as if to make a statement. As if to tell Eggsy that something is wrong, if he is getting a strange manilla envelope with Kingsman sigils stamped in places.

Someone is trying to tell him not all is as it seems, when they use such unorthodox ways of communication (especially when they use glasses for a video feed).

Slowly, he made his way back to his desk. Slitting the front open with a blunt blade, he peaked inside. There were two documents, and Eggsy really wished that he wasn’t alone in his office with sharp objects and too much alcohol.

His eyes surveyed the unbelievable, and they soon started to prickle with the tell tale tears of the situation. Whenever pressed about it, whenever asked about it, Eggsy would tear up- and here especially-  _ he can’t help it _ . The hints dropped, the implications, of this folder and its contents caused Eggsy to question just about everything he’s been told in the past few months.

He downed more whiskey, how much he can’t tell you, but it’s not enough; it never is. Sticking his arms through the sleeves of his tailored coat, Eggsy was bolting out the door of his office. Exiting the premises of the underground headquarters, his head was spinning.

_ What does this mean!? _ He asked himself over and over again.  _ This can’t be fucking true! _

Not quite thinking about where he was going, but definitely relying on muscle memory to get him there, Eggsy ran right into Roxy. 

“Agent Galahad!” She greeted him with a smile, but soon noticed the tight pull of his brow and the scowl on his face, and how Eggsy would avoid her gaze.

“Eggsy,” she whispered, grabbing him by the shoulders, “what’s wrong?”

Eggsy looked at her, realized he didn’t have the time and fixed her with a look: something between sorrow and realization. He cleared his throat, nodded at her a few times and moved to leave, but she grabbed him again.

“Eggsy tell me what is wrong, you’re not acting like yourself.”

“You think I’ve been myself for these past three months?!” He snapped and she frowned, letting go. He looked at her for a while, apologetic but saying nothing. Roxy moved so that they were side by side, she entering HQ and he dead set on leaving, but stayed to look at her; to say something.

“It’s on my desk.” He spoke, his voice shaky.

_ And then he left. _


End file.
